


a heart's banquet is best shared

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Affection Expressed with Food, Alternate Universe, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Food, Gen, I took some liberties with the prompt and have 0 shame, Minor Hurt / Comfort, Rath has 0 idea how to dad but does his best, Rath is alive in fe6 bc i can, also cravings for wonton soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: Some people just say I love you, but Rath has always found actions to mean more than words. And what better way to show care than with food?(4 times Rath cooked for Sue + 2 times Sue cooked for Rath)
Relationships: Rath & Sue (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	a heart's banquet is best shared

**Author's Note:**

> Written for amai_yamai over on twitter as part of the FE Compendium Secret Anna Gift Exchange.
> 
> Rough ages for Sue in each part: 8, 14, 15, 16, 17, 17
> 
> Most of the food described are traditional Mongolain dishes, except for the dumpling soup (which can be directly traced back to me wanting wonton soup while writing this). 
> 
> buuz, Mongolain steamed dumplings filled with meat.  
> shiimin arki, also known as Mongolian Vodka.  
> airag, Mongolian drink made from fermented mare’s milk.

**1\. Sue gets sick**

A cold strikes Sue down as summer begins fading into fall. Rath is grateful it didn’t wait for winter rationing to start, but is at something of a loss. 

It’s odd, not having a small shadow. 

He finds himself lingering near Sue’s sick tent, supposedly isolated to stop the cold from spreading to the rest of the tribe except Dayan has all but moved in, pried away only by the most urgent matters of the Kulotah that he must attend to personally. With such a dedicated caretaker, there’s nothing left for Rath to do.

The fourth time Dayan comes out and finds Rath hovering, he instructs, “Go get Sue something soft to eat if you’ve nothing better to do than wait around.”

Grateful for the first hint of direction since Sue fell ill, Rath heads for the cookfires in the midst of camp. He passes a returning hunting party on the way, and spares a word of thanks to Mother Earth. Fresh meat would serve Sue much better than yesterday’s leftovers.

The communal cooks are more than willing to part with a small cut of gazelle as well as some vegetables and a cup of broth. Not Rath’s most impressive haul, but more than enough for a stew if he uses some of his private flour stores.

He minces the ingredients so finely it ends up closer to porridge than stew. It’s palatable though, and easy on a sore throat.

Dayan’s waiting outside Sue’s sick tent when Rath arrives, steaming bowl in hand. The chief scrutinizes him for a long moment before shaking his head. Wordlessly, Dayan pulls open the tent flap. Rath gives him a curious glance, but Dayan simply ushers him into the tent and lets the flap fall closed behind Rath.

Any surprise Rath has over Dayan surrendering his place at Sue’s beside so easily disappears as a dry cough sounds from the mountain of furs.

Sue is mostly obscured by all the layers, but what Rath can see is red-cheeked and faintly glassy-eyed. Her eyes take a moment to focus on him as he kneels beside her.

“Dad?” she croaks. 

Rath shushes her gently. “I brought food.”

Sue scrunches her nose and starts to push herself up. Rath hurries to support her, letting her rest against his chest. He has a moment to wonder about feeding her as he had sometimes when she was younger before Sue takes the bowl from his hands.

Her first bites are slow, but slowly gain speed. Rath suspects this might be her first meal of the day and feels a little guilty for deciding to make her something himself. In hindsight, Dayan had most likely meant for Rath to get something from the communal pot.

Something to remember in the future.

Sue ends up finishing the entire bowl, which Rath takes from her gently.

“More?”

Shaking her head, Sue looks up at him hopefully. “Story?”

Her voice isn’t as hoarse anymore, but talking is obviously more difficult for her than usual.

“I’ll get your grandfather,” Rath says, starting to rise.

Sue reaches out, tugging weakly on his tunic, and he sits back down immediately. 

“Yours,” she insists.

Rath tries (and fails) not to feel gratified. After all, Sue’s probably heard every story Dayan has to tell twice over in the eight years she’s lived. She no doubt knows them better than Rath does.

But hearing all of Dayan’s stories doesn’t mean she’s ready for any of the stories Rath has to offer. Few of them have happy (or at least humorous) endings. He’s pretty sure Dayan’s already told Sue a version of the one happy ending story that Rath could edit into something age-appropriate. If he tried to tell his own version, the two would inevitably conflict and he doesn’t want to upset Sue.

Eventually, Rath admits, “I don’t have any good stories.”

Sue’s face falls and, slowly, she starts to pull away.

“I know some songs though,” he continues softly.

She pauses, glancing up at him from under her lashes.

“Would you like to hear one?”

Eagerly tucking herself into the space between his arm and side, she nods.

Rath picks a Lycian children’s song, bright and airy and novel. Sue listens raptly through the first, then the second, but by the third her head starts to drop and her eyes struggle to stay open.

Gently, Rath lays her down and covers her with the furs again.

Sue’s hand sneaks out and fists in the bottom of his tunic. “One more?”

Rath should say no, should leave and let her get some much needed sleep, but he looks at his daughter’s warm and sleepy face and he can’t.

“Last one,” he says. 

He hums the lullaby her mother loved, the one she always hummed to Sue even before she was born, and hopes it gives Sue the same warmth it’s always given him as she falls asleep.

  
  


**2\. celebrating Sue's first hunt successful**

“You know you don’t have to wait here the entire time,” Dayan says, coming to stand beside Rath. “The patrol will sound the horn when they’re coming back.” 

“I know.”

Rath had figured that about the time the hunting party had become little more than specks on the horizon and the rest of the parents had returned to business as usual. He could’ve found something to do. Probably should’ve found something better to do than staring out at the plains and pretending he could make out Sue’s figure in the far off distance. 

But this is Sue’s first hunt without him. With the sorts of accidents that can happen on just about any hunt, no matter how prepared, he’s not quite sure why the other parents aren’t just as worried. Letting young teenagers go out onto the plains on their own is practically asking for disaster to strike, tradition or not.

Also, for all that Dayan urges him to relax, Rath doesn’t see him in any hurry to be elsewhere either.

The sun is just past its peak when the horn finally sounds, announcing the youngsters’ return. Sue is at the front of the group when they come into sight, posture straight with pride and loose with satisfaction, and Rath lets go of his last worries. No injuries, but there are some sour and disappointed expressions on the hunters behind her.

Rath’s not surprised. The Kulotah make trophies from the non-edible parts of their first kills, and parents sometimes use leftover materials in coming of age attire. To come back empty handed is a heavy blow to their pride.

Especially when Sue manages to bring back a large bull gazelle _and_ a brace of pheasants.

Sue hasn’t needed help getting down from a horse in years, but Rath steps forward all the same, arms outstretched. She practically leaps into his embrace, forcing Rath to spin them around a few times rather than fall to the ground.

“Well done,” he says into her hair.

“Mm.” 

Sue gives him one last squeeze before sliding out of his arms, immediately setting to task untying her catch from her horse. The gazelle is heavy enough that Rath has to help carry it to the butchering mats. Dayan trails behind them with the pheasants.

Technically youngsters are expected to dress their kills on their own, but no one says anything when Sue gives Rath one of the pheasants then sets to work on the bull. Rath carefully starts plucking. The outer feathers he sets aside to be split between fletching, adornments, and ornaments. The down he carefully stows away for the warmer bedroll Sue will need when she eventually starts taking patrols.

Rath reaches for the second pheasant, only for Sue to snatch it out from under his hand.

“I’ll do it,” she says, hugging the bird to her chest.

Rath raises an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the half-dressed gazelle behind her.

Sue raises her chin in response. “It’s tradition.”

He points at the plucked pheasant in front of him.

She gives him an exasperated look. “That one’s _yours_.”

“Oh.” 

Meat from the yearly first hunts usually goes into the communal pot, as a sign of care and respect for the tribe. But sometimes, on particularly fruitful hunts, the most proficient hunter will gift a small part of their kill to a favored mentor. 

He thought Sue would give some to Dayan, if she was going to follow that particular part of the tradition. They’re much closer after all. 

As his silence draws on, Sue begins to look uncertain. “If you don’t want it--”

“Thank you, I’m honored,” Rath says hurriedly.

Sue ducks her head with a nod, but Rath can make out the tiniest hints of a smile.

He considers what to do with the pheasant. Rath, as a self-taught cook, doesn’t know or care for many elaborate dishes. Yet it feels flippant to use the pheasant Sue gave him in a simple stew. Soup is an idea though, and dumpling soup can seem fancy without too much fuss if he can make the wrappers cooperate.

Quickly, Rath parcels out the pheasant. He sets aside the meat he needs for the dumplings in one wrap, and splits the bones and remaining meat into two bundles. The bone bundle he trades for broth, the meat for seasonings and vegetables. 

After fetching water, Rath returns to his tent and has to stop himself from beginning soup preparations. Making the dumplings will be somewhat time-consuming, too much to make in time for a lunch but not long enough to start several hours before anyone will be eating dinner.

He widdles the time away making Sue a simple hair ornament with pheasant feathers. (Most of which is spent accidentally breaking feathers and cursing his clumsy fingers as fletching is far removed from jewelry making.)

It’s a relief to put down the feathers, and return to more familiar territory.

Rath sets up his cookpot, lights the fire, and sets the broth to boil with some spices. The dumpling filling is simple enough, mincing and stirring and letting the mixture sit to blend the flavor more deeply. He makes the wrapper dough from flour and water. Absently wishing for the added richness and luster of an egg, Rath kneads then splits the dough and rolls out the first sheet. He cuts roughly even size wrappers, repeating with each dough sheet.

After previous failures at artistry, Rath wraps the dumplings simply. 

Cooking the dumplings is as simple as dropping them into the broth and letting them simmer. He finishes the soup off with a pinch of salt before ladling bowls for Sue and himself. The rich scent of the soup turns heads as Rath looks for Sue around the celebratory bonfire where her gazelle slowly roasts. 

He finds her sitting on the fringes of the festivities. Silently, he joins her and extends a bowl of dumpling soup. Sue takes it slowly, giving Rath a curious glance.

Instead of answering immediately, he pulls the little hair ornament he made and offers it to her. 

“From the pheasant,” he explains. “The soup as well. Congratulations on your first hunt.”

Sue turns pink and eagerly takes the ornament. After examining it from every angle, she holds it back out to him.

“Put it on me?”

Rath sets his bowl aside and moves a little closer. Carefully, he slides the ornament into the hair just above her ear. She beams at him, so young and bright, and he would give her the world if she asked. He leans forward to kiss her forehead before he pulls away.

Not that he gets far, as Sue scoots close enough to lean against his side as she tries the soup.

Rath watches Sue’s face light up as she savors it, particularly the dumplings. Discreetly, he picks through his bowl and tries to sneak his dumplings into Sue’s bowl. She catches him after the first one. Rolling her eyes, she patiently waits for him to finish before putting every dumpling but one back into his bowl.

“You need to eat more meat,” Rath insists, giving her half.

Sue deposits each one with a small plop back into his bowl. “Balance is important.”

“I’m an old man. You’re still growing.” Rath puts the dumplings back in her bowl.

“I’m growing well without extra pheasant. Everyone agrees you’re little more than skin and bones.”

Rath is taken aback by that assessment, which is all the opportunity Sue needs to scoop the extra dumplings out of her bowl and into his, a satisfied quicksilver smile on her face. Before he can retaliate, she’s up and away, making her way around the fire towards her grandfather as she accepts praise and congratulations on a successful first hunt.

He aches with pride at how clever his daughter’s becoming. 

(And if he’s a little bereft too, for the little girl who would tug his hand when she had questions or needed help or wanted him to take her out with him on the plains or for no real reason at all, well. 

Rath will have the memories of these little moments when Sue doesn’t need him anymore.)

  
  


+1 **Rath gets injured**

Sue is tending her horse when a horn sounds out in the plains. Two short notes then one long one signalling a non life-threatening injury requiring aid. Rare, especially since she’s pretty sure no one in the tribe’s having their first hunt today.

She watches a healer set out along with two other tribesmen and a cart, and tries not to worry. Even if it’s the same direction Rath went this morning, her father’s the most accomplished bowman of the tribe. Someone else could’ve wandered that way in search of prey. Rath’s probably fine.

Rath is not, in fact, fine when the party returns half an hour later. Sue takes his horse Altan from one of the tribesmen, and watches as the healer helps Rath out of the cart. His ankle is swollen, red peppered with purple under a bandaged splint, and he carefully refrains from putting any weight. Sue watches as they slowly make their way to Rath’s tent.

Her feet start to follow them before Sue remembers she’s taken charge of Altan. 

A touch faster than usual, Sue strips Altan of saddle, saddle blanket, and bridle. She brushes the horse carefully, before cleaning the gear. Arms ladened, she heads to Rath’s tents.

She finds Rath glaring at his ice-pack covered foot propped up on a stack of cushions. 

“What happened?” she asks, stowing her father’s riding gear.

Rath grimaces. “Sprained my ankle stepping in a marmot hole.”

Sue bites back a snicker. 

Rath leans over to pick up the crutch lying beside him and pokes her thigh reproachfully.

“It could happen to anyone,” he says.

“Any greenhorn, sure.”

“The grass was long, and the snow thick.”

Sue recognizes embarrassment in the red of Rath’s ears and relents. “At least it wasn’t Altan.”

“That would’ve been a tragedy.”

Studying his face, Sue thinks her father looks worn.

Life among the Kulotah isn’t the easiest, but not even her grandfather wears scars and world-weariness the way Rath does sometimes. Her father also has difficulty accepting any more than bare minimal help from the tribe, even though relying on and caring for the tribe are the very first lessons he instilled in Sue.

“Do you need anything?” she asks. Her strength alone isn’t much, but she offers it freely.

Rath shakes his head. Trying to hide her disappointment, she nods.

Rath’s stomach chooses this moment to growl.

He ducks his head to glare at his stomach for betraying, making Sue giggle.

“I’ll make lunch.” She ducks out of the tent before he can object.

When she returns from gathering ingredients, Rath has gained a second pile of cushions to recline against and lost the ice pack, courtesy of Dayan.

Sue plies him with a few slices of jerkies as she sorts out the ingredients for buuz.

Rath takes a bite and pauses. “This is marmot jerky, isn’t it.”

Sue smiles, but doesn’t say anything as she mixes the buuz dough.

“I’m not sure if you’re betraying me or avenging me.”

Sue shrugs. She just did it because the buuz would take a bit and it seemed funny.

As she finishes the dough, Rath offers, “I can make the wrappers, if nothing else.”

Sue pauses, considering, but shakes her head. “I can do it,” she insists. “And you’re supposed to be _resting_.”

Rath sighs, but doesn’t argue.

Sue makes the filling, wraps the buuz, and steams them. She stacks them all on a single plate to share, settling down next to Rath and offering him the first buuz.

Gingerly, he takes it. He stares at it like he doesn’t make a mountain of them every year for the new year.

“I think this is the first time you’ve made these without any help,” he says softly after a moment.

“It seems fitting then to share them with the person who taught me how to make buuz.”

Rath blinks, a smile there and gone as he finally takes a bite. He makes an approving sound at the taste, offering Sue a thumbs up.

Sue hides a pleased grin behind a buuz of her own.

  
  


**3\. coming of age feast**

Traditionally, the role of parents for the coming of age ceremony is to spend the weeks leading up to the ceremony fashioning grand ceremonial attire for their child. Rath, however, is one of the few parents with a child whofinished growing not long after their first hunt, leaving more than enough time for a widower to finish the garments on his own.

Which leaves Rath with nothing to do for the week leading up to the ceremony.

The other parents eye him with envy. He wonders how they would feel if they knew he envies their preoccupation.

He desperately wants to accompany the feast hunting parties, but cedes the space for the squirrelly soon-to-be-adults, some of who need to gather last minute materials for their coming of age clothes. Rath’s toyed with the idea of just riding out on the plains, basking in the wonders of Mother Earth, but the last thing the tribe needs right now is someone restlessly wandering the plains. Roaming the camp isn’t much better.

Dayan puts him out of his misery after two days, throwing him to the cooks as free labor. Rath’s never been so relieved to have someone put a knife into his hand and point him at a target.

The days pass in a blur until the morning before the ceremony.

One of the grandmother cooks pushes two pheasants into Rath’s hands as soon as he reports for duty.

“Every other family has at least one dish. You don’t want our princess to feel left out do you?” 

She goes back to her own preparations without waiting for a response, leaving Rath to stare thoughtfully at the birds in his hands.

All too soon, the day of the coming of age ceremony dawns. Sue comes to Rath’s tent bright and early, practically vibrating with excitement. Barely awake, Rath surrenders her coming of age clothes and his tent. 

Choosing one of the more practical designs over the flamboyant productions that took at least four people to get on is no doubt the pinnacle of Rath’s wisdom.

Sue sticks her head out of the tent, asking, “Help me with my hair?”

Considering Sue’s typical hairstyle is a headband to keep it out of her face, he’s not sure why she needs help but he follows her back into the tent all the same. She stuffs a hair brush in his hand and sits carefully to avoid any dust.

Rath can’t remember how many years it’s been since he brushed his daughter’s hair, but the motions are familiar enough. If there’s a suspicious lack of tangles for someone who supposedly just woke up, Rath doesn’t say anything, even if he does slow his hands a little.

“Headband?” he asks eventually, reluctant. There’s only so much time he can spend with Sue before he needs to help with feast preparations unfortunately.

Sue surprises him by asking, “Can you put it up?” 

She produces a leather tie before he can even ask as if afraid he’ll say no. In her palm next to the tie is a familiar feather hair ornament.

“Are you sure? It’s rather plain.”

Sue nods before resolutely facing forward.

Rath gathers her hair into a simple high tail, tucking the feather ornament in front of the leather tie. He taps Sue’s shoulder to signal that he’s finished, and she ambushes him with a hug before streaking out of the tent.

Rath finds out as he’s heading back to the cookfires that she’s been running through the whole camp, showing off the things he made for her. (Not unusual for brand new adults, though usually not so early in morning. Who wouldn’t want to proudly display the labor of their parents’ love? And which parent wouldn’t be pleased that their child appreciated their efforts?)

Hours later, after the brief ceremony has ended and the festivities begin, Rath is finally released from his duties. He plans on finding a quiet spot to watch the dancing and make sure Sue’s having a good time.

She finds him first, practically appearing by his side. 

Tugging him towards where the feast is laid, Sue asks, “Which dish is yours?”

Rath ducks his head, pride and warmth warring in his chest as he gestures. “Those pheasants. Roasted just how you like them.”

Sue beams with the brightest of a summer sun, hugging him tightly before bounding away. Rath watches as she fills her plate, all but wrestling two of the other new adults for an entire pheasant. Despite several invitations to join her agemates, Sue comes back to present him with her prize. 

“To share,” she announces, splitting the bird in half.

On closer look, the food on Sue’s plate has been arranged with her favorites on one side. 

His favorites are on the other, with the pheasant in between them.

Such a small thing, but Rath’s starting to realize maybe he’ll always have a place in Sue’s life, the same way his heart will always have a niche just for her.

**4\. homecoming celebration**

When Rath returned to the tribe years ago, the Kulotah, who seemed as numerous as stars and just as inextinguishable, had feasted for days with shimiin arkhi following as water and celebratory song ringing from one end of Sacae to the other. Time and betrayal have whittled them to little more than a mourning shadow haunting ancestral lands, but as soon as news of victory against Bern reaches the plains, Rath and Dayan begin preparations.

Winters are often lean, even in the best years, but Rath and Dayan are both accomplished hunters with only themselves to feed in lands that have fed their tribe for generations. They manage to catch enough for two days of feasting, and Rath sends Dayan to trade for vegetables and spices with two braces of pheasants and a gazelle hide. He returns with jars of airag and shimiin arkhi in addition to sacks bulging with smaller spice pouches and winter greens, worth more than their meager offerings.

“Gifts of thanks for the returning warriors,” Dayan says, not looking at Rath as he unloads his horse. 

Rath thinks there’s a not small amount of sympathy for their losses mixed in as well, and guilt that only the sparse Kulotah could spare people for the war against Bern. On his own, he would’ve turned away their generosity, likely all they could bear to spare with the Djute’s tyranny not long past, but Rath thinks of Sue and Sin prepared but not really ready to die as they march among the Lycians, thinks of the Kulotah massacred by the Djute, and accepts the gifts.

Even with the sudden abundance of ingredients, Rath sticks to the simpler fares he knows best rather than the elaborate dishes he remembers from his own homecoming. He doesn’t know the recipes for one, those had always been the purview of more passionate and patient cooks who passed them on personally from generation to generation. For another, Dayan manages to be an even poorer chef than Rath. 

By the time a returning horn song sounds at the edge of Kulotah lands, all but the dishes for the next day are keeping warm by the fire. Rath waits at the edge of camp, his eyes restlessly searching the horizon for those two figures in the encroaching night. 

When they finally appear, Rath can barely stop himself from running to meet them. Sue, when she finally stops and dismounts just inside the light of the campfire, is travel-worn but softly smiling as she grabs him in a hug.

“I’m back,” she whispers into his chest.

Rath hugs her tightly to his chest. “Welcome home.”

He nods to Sin as the young man dismounts. After a moment, Rath reluctantly releases Sue except for an arm around her shoulders, and leads them to where he and Dayan have laid out the modest homecoming feast.

“ _Dad_ ,” Sue says, voice caught between reproach and wonder.

Rath squeezes her shoulder gently. “The other tribes send gratitude with their gifts.”

He fills Sue’s plate with all her favorite dishes, leaving Sin to fend for himself.

“Eat,” he says as he gives Sue her plate. “Then rest. It’s been a long year.”

Sue eyes moisten, but she blinks the tears away before they spill. Thickly she insists, “Eat with me.”

Rath kisses her temple. “Of course.”

Sue drifts off as soon as her plate is empty, head lolling on his shoulder. 

Rath smiles and gently carries her to the tent he’d set up next to his.

**+2 First hunt back with the tribe**

By some stroke of luck, Sue makes it back to camp first. She half expects Rath to appear one step behind her, but only Dayan and Sin come out to help her with her catch. 

Sue knows an opportunity when she sees one. Wasting no time, she dresses her kills and leaves her tribesmen to deal with the meat for later days as she rushes to gather ingredients for the cookpot. Any lost moment could lead to Rath monopolizing cooking duties again.

Not that Sue minds that eating so much of her father’s cooking. He’s come a long way since the early days of perfunctory boiled meat and bland stews. But knowing Rath spent so much time and effort improving just so Sue could enjoy his food, how could she not want to reciprocate?

She knows Rath wants her to rest. Wants to let her recover slowly from the horrors of losing the tribe and the horrors she faced in avenging them. She thinks he feels guilty that he didn’t follow her to war. There were some nights she wished he had, feeling alone amongst the Lycians who didn’t understand the weight of her loss even with Sin there. Mostly though, Sue thinks of the scars her father wears and the many stories he’ll never tell a soul lest he burden them, and is grateful to have spared him from gaining any more. 

As much as she needs rest, her father needs it too sometimes.

When Rath finally returns, Sue is just finishing lunch. He wanders over after dropping his catch on Dayan and Sin to frown at the full, steaming cookpot.

Sue hands him a plate of buuz and a bowl of soup with a bright triumphant smile.

Rath shakes his head, but takes them. Instead of eating immediately, he waits for Sue to dish herself up and start eating first.

“I’ll cook dinner,” he says.

Sue pokes him. “Do not take on too much. I’ll conscript the others if need be.”

“It’s my responsibility to look after you.”

“I’m an adult,” Sue says stubbornly, “and we’re family: We’re responsible for each other.”

Rath stares into his bowl, mindlessly dragging his spoon through the soup. “We can try, but don’t push yourself for my benefit,” he says eventually.

Sue presses their shoulders together, smiling. “So long as that also applies to you, deal.”

Rath huffs a laugh and concedes with a nod.


End file.
